


Kinsey Scale

by mrsthessaly



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, Placed somewhere at S2, Sincere Drunk Dinesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 07:44:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsthessaly/pseuds/mrsthessaly
Summary: “This is ridiculous”, said Dinesh, laughing and taking a sip of beer, eyes focused on the way those black jeans hugged Gilfoyle’s thighs. “The hottest guy in the house is clearly Gilfoyle.”





	Kinsey Scale

**Author's Note:**

> I've three angsty Dinfoyle's halfway done on my drive and this is what I finish. Ok then. I was just thinking about drunk Dinesh talking about Gilfoyle plus him being a sincere drunk.  
> I apologize for any odd English parts. Be free to point them out.

**Kinsey Scale**

 

Dinesh was past drunk at the point in the night where the argument began. 

He didn’t usually like that torpid feeling or the taste of alcohol, so being drunk wasn’t exactly a state he mastered. But everybody was always offering him alcohol at that house and there’s a limit to how many times a guy can pass on beer if he wants to avoid being made fun of, so when Erlich put down a cooler on the living room and passed bottles around announcing an  _amuse booze_ (Dinesh was pretty sure drinking cheap beer with five other dudes wouldn’t be called amusing by anyone), he wordlessly took the one Richard gave him. 

Strangely enough, that was probably the first time that it was Richard offering him a beer. The task was usually handled by Erlich or Gilfoyle. 

 _Traitor_ , thought Dinesh, using his hand to support his wiggling walk back to the Sad Nerds Club party, having left to take the goddamnit fourth piss in fifteen minutes. Richard was supposed to be at the same social tier as Dinesh. He had no business going and offering him poison. 

“No!” he heard Richard tantrum as he triumphed on reaching the desk without falling once. Dinesh took some time to settle with a sitting position until he noticed the floor wasn’t moving at all, it was just him wheeling the chair. “She was looking at me. Me! Carla specifically said Cunty told her, and I quote: ‘the nice  _ginger_  one is kind of hot’. Hm? That’s me!’” 

Dinesh snorted, amused. He was clearly not the drunkest person in the house if Richard thought any woman would call him  _hot_. Shit, maybe that’s why they called it amuse booze. He most definitely felt amused. 

He lost part of Erlich’s speech at that thought, messing around with a few decorative junk Gilfoyle scattered around his desk and trying to figure out if every time he watched Gilfoyle do that – fiddle with his crap – he was experimenting that amusing feeling. Alcoholics had the secret to an amusing life all along and what they did was put them on rehabilitation centers. 

“... _amusing..._ ” Erlich’s voice said, loud and sumptuous, and Dinesh turned around in no time because he was thinking just that.  “...she would pass through this house without taking note of this superb specimen with silky curly hair kissed by fire. You’re pretty cute, Richie, but she’s talking about  _hot_ , and we all know I’m the alpha flame in this lair of betas.” He shifted around, as if pointing at the rest of them, throwing scorn from the top of all that pride. Dinesh wondered if Erlich, falling from that height, would break his neck and die. “And some... omegas.” He was looking at Jared. 

“Well, then, you are not even nice. Or a ginger. You’re blonde.” 

And he shifted back to Richard, some intensity on his glare. 

“How dare you, Richard? How dare you?” 

“Hey! Careful with that.” Gilfoyle slapped him in the back of the head, making Dinesh almost drop the porcelain skull with an inverted cross on its forehead he was playing with. Almost, because he took it from Dinesh’s hand before it happened. “Take your lightweight hands off my shit. That’s my spot.” 

Dinesh was about to argue, but two things happened: 1- that was, indeed, Gilfoyle’s chair. 2-Erlich took note of Gilfoyle’s presence. 

“Gilf!” he called out, opening an arm in a way that reminded Dinesh of how special guests were introduced in sitcoms. “You seem like you would lean on a zero point five or zero point eight in the Kinsey Scale. Please, confirm to the presents that I’m obviously the hottest guy in this house.” 

He watched Gilfoyle pause for a second, bored eyes scanning Erlich, before he would throw himself at the empty chair Dinesh left behind. 

“First of all,”, he said, putting a leg over the armrest and lying down in which should be a comfortable position but, to Dinesh, only seemed like too much of an effort to look casual. “I’m strongly a two. And second, you are not.” 

“Ha!” Richard shouted. 

“What’s Kinsey scale?”, asked Bighead to no one in particular. He has been playing always blue by himself since the third trip to the bathroom Dinesh made and he hasn’t seen the ball turn green once. He assumed it had, at some point he wasn’t looking, but as Bighead threw the ball in the air again and again and it was still as blue as it can get, Dinesh caught himself amusingly staring. Witchcraft. 

“It measures human sexual behavior”, answered Jared. “It’s a heterosexual-homosexual scale, zero being strictly heterosexual and six being strictly homosexual. Fun fact: did you know Kinsey never met a person in his studies that were neither zero or six?” 

“That’s neither fun or a fact”, said Erlich. “I’m a zero. Like that Steppenwolf song:  _For Ladies Only_. Sorry, Gilf.” Gilfoyle raised his shoulders and drank his beer, not seeming to mind the loss at all. Only when smoke came out of his mouth Dinesh noticed he was also holding a bong. “Gun to your head, if you had to pick, me or Little Richard?” 

“Death”, Gilfoyle deadpanned. 

“Hm, don’t call me that”, Richard protested, arms crossed and body awkwardly swinging. 

Erlich threw a fist in the air, frustrated. 

“Let’s bring this up for a vote, shall we?” 

“I don’t like this game”, Richard said in a low voice to Dinesh, sitting down at the armrest of his chair since it was the closest thing to where he was almost tripping over his own feet. 

“Jian Yang will clearly vote for Richard just to spite me, the tasteless little shit” the other kept talking, but at that point it seemed like he was more rambling to himself than to the drunk group around him – and Jared, who hadn’t drink anything. And no one was making fun of him for it. Maybe Dinesh should start something. God, drinking beer and rambling merciless insults to someone’s masculinity, he was one of  _the guys_. “Jared is asexual so he doesn’t get to vote.” 

“I’m not-” 

“Gilfoyle, you’re up. Be a man and tell us if you would rather fuck me or Richard.” 

“He will not do that, Erlich”, Richard protested. “No one is going to do that.” 

Dinesh watched Gilfoyle raise his head up from the bong, killing the lighter. 

“Don’t tell me what I won’t do”, he said, smoke coming out of his mouth at every word. Erlich smiled proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at Richard in a  _here we go_ kind of way. He was even puffing his chest as Gilfoyle put the bong down and grabbed the beer. Dinesh moved to lean in their direction, paying attention. 

Gilfoyle took a sip, looking the other up and down as if he was taking this really seriously. Then he took a fast glimpse at Richard and said, pointing a finger with the same hand as he was holding the beer: 

“You look like you cry after sex.” Erlich dropped the chest puffing thing that made him look like a peacock, about to start a fight when the other continued: “But”, he said, and Erlich cocked an eyebrow. Richard shifted uncomfortably on the armrest next to Dinesh. 

“This was a stupid idea”, he groaned and Dinesh told him to shut up. 

“On the other hand, Richard looks like he cries  _during_ sex.” 

Richard rolled his eyes and shut himself in his hoodie, Dinesh giggling. 

"So, I guess I can always pull my pants up and leave after I came”, he tapped his fingers on the desk, like he was  _truly_  giving this a meticulous thinking. “But if it happens in the middle, I’m going to just lie there with a boner through the thing. Hm. Yeah, I go with the scenario where at least my dick will be sucked. Erlich.” 

“The only crying that will happen is by you, my homo inclined friend. Tears of pure joy.” 

“I’ll take your word for it.” 

“Dinesh!” Erlich said, ignoring his first voter now that he got what he wanted and fully turning to face a very amused Dinesh. Mastering the  _not a single fuck given_  art, Gilfoyle went back to the task of getting high. He put his other foot on the desk, now lying wild spread on the chair. He always sat down so suggestively, like he wanted people to know how flexible his legs were. Dinesh snorted to himself. Fucking whore. "Go on, place your betting so we can all sleep with the certainty that I am, no doubt, the hottest male in this house.” 

“This is ridiculous”, said Dinesh, laughing and taking a sip of beer, eyes focused on the way those black jeans hugged Gilfoyle’s thighs. He didn’t remember taking a new bottle. Fuck, it was Bighead’s beer. He told Dinesh it was cool when the other came to apologize. 

“I agree”, Richard was nodding enthusiastically, the first sane thing he heard that night. 

Then Dinesh said: 

“The hottest guy in the house is clearly Gilfoyle.” 

At that point, Richard stopped nodding and Erlich began raising his eyebrow. 

Gilfoyle just looked up, the lighter still burning. 

“I mean. Come on.” Dinesh dismissively waved his hand, snorting again, this time louder so everyone could hear. That was pretty obvious, right? Why everyone was arguing about such an obvious thing was the true dilemma there. He analyzed Gilfoyle, who was slowly letting the smoke out of his mouth without saying anything, his legs wide open and hair partially tied in a messy ponytail, not having moved at all. He squeezed his eyes and tilted his head a little, as he usually did when he was trying to get Dinesh running his mouth. 

Dinesh considered maybe shutting up, but he just knew he wouldn’t. He never did.  

“I guess...”, Bighead interfered pensively from his place on the couch and that was all he needed to do just what was expected. 

“I mean, he was kind of just, you know, that greasy computer guy with a ponytail that probably jerk off to cartoons when he moved in” he hoped that would be enough to point out that he was, still, pretty much grossed out by his co-programmer. But come on he isn’t _blind_. "But since we won TechCrunch I have to say...” Dinesh trailed off before he got to say anything else. Part of him expected someone to cut him off by now, but everybody seemed to have stolen the capacity to squeeze their eyes at him so he would keep talking that Gilfoyle mastered. Or maybe he was just that drunk. “He has this cool rascal thing going on with the tattoos, long hair and stuff.” 

In the pause that stayed in the living room, only a short moderative “ha!” that probably came from Jared cut the silence. 

Dinesh was about to say something else when Erlich was faster to drag the attention back to the quest no one but him cared about.  

“Dinesh is clearly a six and his bad taste extends to other aspects other than clothing choices”, announced him in big gestures that made Dinesh’s head spin just to look at. "I should’ve known. Tsc tsc. Dinesh's out! I’m seeing this is the case for-” 

“Hold on.” Gilfoyle sat upright in the chair. What a shame to watch him close his legs. “Now that Dinesh put me in the podium, I’m changing my vote. I vote to bang myself. And Dinesh also votes for banging me. So, I guess I won.” 

“You can’t-! You can’t vote for yourself!” 

“You weren't even  _in the house_ when Cunty came by!” Richard joined, getting up. 

“It must have been just my natural rascal charm impregnated in the area. She could sniff it.” 

To that Dinesh, who had an annoying ich at the back of his mind telling to shut the hell up, scoffed loudly and did exactly the opposite. “Please...” He laughed. “Your look is as natural as Richard’s makeup.” 

“I had a TV interview”, the other protested, trying to shrink between his shoulders. 

“Come on, you think I haven’t noticed the beard oil in the bathroom? You’re the only one here with a beard, man. And no one wears a pair of jeans this thigh for comfort. You ran the extra mile to look like you woke up like this but you’re actually very invested in this... Metalhead, hipstery look. Just admit it!” 

“Just shut up, Dinesh” Erlich screamed, actually  _screamed._ Why the fuck was he screaming Dinesh had no idea. He was pretty sure he just engaged in a blinking game with Gilfoyle. People were still talking around them, but they were just staring at one another, challenging a reaction. Or at least that’s what Dinesh thought they were doing. That sober voice in the back of his mind was screaming something too. 

“Fuck, this is confusing” he heard Bighead groaning at his side, still focused on the way Gilfoyle’s fingers were tapping the side of the bong repetitively. “Why don’t we just go over there? I think if we get drunker than this, we won’t even make it to the party.” 

Oh shit, yeah, there was a party. That’s what they started drinking, to warm up _,_ because apparently that’s something people do. Drink to prepare to drink more. Dinesh wasn’t usually fit to drink once, let alone twice in the same night. 

People started to make arrangements to leave the house around of him, but he couldn’t do any more than close his eyes and rest his head against the pillows, letting himself feel the world spinning. Fuck. 

Richard tapped his arm to invite him to join, but all Dinesh succeeded in doing was telling him off. 

Jared offered him a glass of water. Dinesh sat up to drink and Jared went back to the table, where he spent all night working on something in his laptop. So much for being one of the guys, cut out from the party for being a lightweight and sharing the evening with fucking Jared _,_ the least cool guy in the whole Valley – maybe the whole State. 

“Aren’t you joining the parade?” 

Dinesh almost jumped when he heard Gilfoyle’s voice. A few drops of water dumped his shirt when he moved his head around looking for the origin of the calling. Gilfoyle was standing by the kitchen aisle, leaning in with his hips, arms crossed over his chest. He was right next to Jared and apparently talking to him, not Dinesh. 

“Oh no. Although I would very much enjoy partying with them” (oh God who used the word  _partying_ like that) “I need to have these plans ready by Monday”, he finished with a wide, enthusiastic grin only Jared working on a Saturday night could master. 

“Hm”, Gilfoyle simply answered. Dinesh watched him do that again, tapping his fingers, only this time over the aisle. He drank more of the water just to have something to do in case they noticed he was paying attention. “Last time Richard went off drunk unsupervised with Erlich, he gave up a sit on the board.” 

Jared’s shoulders tensed. 

“I’m just saying... Maybe someone with an instinct to nurse baby birds should keep an eye.” 

It seemed like Jared was considering this. He even lowered the screen as if to get up and leave, to what Gilfoyle’s fingers finally stopped moving. For a moment, he glanced at Dinesh. Fast, Dinesh moved his eyes somewhere else and pretended to drink from a cup that was already empty. Then he heard Jared’s voice again: 

“No, they’ll be fine. I think Richard has grown enough in the past year to know how to handle himself. I trust him.” 

Gilfoyle took a hash, audible breath. 

“Okay, then. Get out of the house.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Get out of the house” he repeated, slowly, as if this would make Jared better understand the request. 

Dinesh was half-expecting an argument, but it never came. A moment later he dared himself to look again. Now it was Jared and Gilfoyle playing a blinking game. Gilfoyle lost. He blinked slowly one time, then again, and Jared frowned in confusion. Dinesh was pretty sure Gilfoyle just nodded his head in Dinesh’s direction as he suggestively widened his eyes. That had Jared’s whole face lighting up in understanding. 

“Oh! Yes, I-… I'm gonna go keep an... Eye on Richard.” 

The laptop closed. Some papers were gathered, then the chair dragged on the floor and steps approached the front door. Dinesh saw Jared’s legs passing by, but the world made a large curve when he tried to look up, or it was just that his head was too low to see anything else. 

He spent the next two minutes listening to the sounds in the kitchen and trying to make any sense of the voice that kept screaming in the back of his mind something that sounded a lot like  _GET OUT YOU IDIOT THIS IS A TRAP._  

Before he could succeed in going further than sitting upright, let alone leave that couch, Gilfoyle’s hand was pushing a new glass of water in front of his face. He knew it was Gilfoyle’s hand because of that ugly ring with a skull using a top hat. And because, at that point, they were alone in the house. 

Dinesh was going to decline the water, but he realized when he was about to talk that his mouth was still dry. He took it. Gilfoyle waited for him to drink with his hands on his waist, then he took the glass and put it over the table. 

“So”, he said, nonchalant as ever, not moving from his spot that Dinesh just realized was between his open legs. He looked up. 

“So?” he repeated, aiming for annoyed but managing scared. Dinesh rolled his shoulders to try to look nonchalant too. It didn't work. “What?” 

Gilfoyle just stared at him. 

He squeezed his eyes in that way he always did when he was trying to get Dinesh spitting some truths he’d regret saying the moment he opened his mouth. 

And that’s exactly what Dinesh made. 

“Are you going to murder me or make out with me?” 

He was pretty sure it was the fact that he was drunk that made Gilfoyle almost look surprised. 

He smirked a beat later. “I don’t know, Dinesh.” His legs started spreading. He was already between Dinesh’s legs, so where the fuck was him spreading to? His knees touched Dinesh’s thighs and went above them. Oh, alright. “Which would you prefer?” Did his voice always sound that freaking hot? 

“Do you always sound this hot?” 

Okay, now he was  _sure_ Gilfoyle was surprised. But he was also sitting on Dinesh’s lap, so maybe that beer had some hallucinogenic properties to it and no one told him. That voice in his head was now asking him what the fuck was happening and why wasn't he running. 

“You’re a really sincere drunk”, he said. 

His weight and smell felt pretty real. 

“Murder me. I prefer if you murder me, please.” 

He smirked again, so close now Dinesh could feel his breath. There was a hand at the cheek that wasn't there before. Alright, so this was happening. When their lips met, he was thinking it was typical Gilfoyle to do exactly the opposite of what Dinesh asked.


End file.
